


those broken and delicate things

by clarkescrusade (alindy)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alindy/pseuds/clarkescrusade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke saves Bellamy's life and he returns the favor, leaving the two of them to question just how much they care for the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	those broken and delicate things

**Author's Note:**

> This is for warrior-of-the-heart on tumblr who won third place in my fanfiction giveaway. An aspect of this story was based off of [this post.](http://thorvalkyrie.tumblr.com/post/75994381217)

“Clarke, behind you!” Bellamy screamed.

Clarke whipped around, eyeing the target running at her full force and shooting a bullet straight into his head. She cringed at the sight of his falling body, feeling a twinge of regret at having to pull life away from someone (it went against all of her healer principles, all the instincts within her that yelled to  _save_ ), but there were only ever so many options in battle.

“Why am I always saving your ass?” Bellamy spoke, sliding up next to her and kicking at the person to his right. The woman stumbled backward, reaching out and grabbing onto Bellamy’s arm, but he was too fast, shifting their weight and bringing her to the ground.

“Do you want to know my absolute favorite thing about you, Bellamy?”

“Oh, please, do tell,” Bellamy replied.

Clarke ushered them forward, trying to find a better vantage point to find the best path of escape from the attack. They’d been gone from camp for a week, going on a gathering mission with a group of mostly other delinquents and a few guards after discovering a handful of intact houses about two days away. They were on their way back to Camp when an arrow soared through the air, the group being split into different factions as they diverted the attack.

“Still waiting for that answer, princess.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, allowing Bellamy to take a step forward in front and lead them through the brush. He had really always had a knack for choosing the better footing, his steps consistently soft and silent, so she didn’t mind falling behind him.

“Oh, I was just going to say your modestly,” she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Bellamy scoffed. “Like I haven’t heard that one before. Probably from you, too.”

“I keep saying it hoping you might take the hint.”

“I notice you dropping the hint,” Bellamy spoke, and Clarke swore she could hear the familiar smirk heavy in his voice. “I just don’t want to take it.”

Clarke laughed, unable to keep the chuckle locked within. She covered her mouth as quickly as she could manage, realizing that they should probably be trying to be a lot quieter for the seriousness of the situation. They had no way of knowing where or when another attack could occur, and as good as they had grown to be in the woods on Earth, the people who had lived their whole lives there would always be better, plain and simple.

A twig snapped behind them, and as much as Clarke would like to believe that it was nothing more than a simple sound of nature, she knew too well that that was most likely not the case. She snapped around, eyes searching wildly for a sign of the source. A shimmer of fabric fluttering before finding hiding behind a tree caught her eye, but before Clarke could even tell who exactly it was, an arrow was flying through the air and straight at the oblivious Bellamy.

The option between Bellamy and herself would always be a simple one, and as strange as that would have sounded to the Clarke that had just landed on the ground to a bizarre and scary Earth, it was commonplace to her now. Caring for Bellamy was something instinctual, something entirely unexpected but profoundly rewarding, so it was no surprise that Clarke would reach out to protect him.

It  _was_  surprising, however, that Clarke’s sense of the trajectory was spot-on enough for her to reach her hand out, the arrow flying straight toward her hand and planting itself halfway through it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Clarke yelled. “Bellamy, seven o’ clock behind the oak tree.”

Bellamy spun toward her, eyebrows scrunching together in worry and confusion as he saw her clutching her hand tightly to herself, a thick scowl painting her face. A sound emerged from the spot she had just identified, and Bellamy leaped toward it, his feet pushing him past Clarke and after the attacker.

Two gun shots echoed around Clarke a half minute later, and she knew without single drop of doubt that the whole thing was over. The sound of crunching leaves and irregular breathing moved toward her, and several seconds later Bellamy had returned, his hand on her back and his eyes scanning her for further injury.

“You’re welcome,” Clarke spoke through gritted teeth.

“Just this once can you not be a sarcastic shit?” Bellamy replied. If Clarke couldn’t hear the deafening concern in his voice she might have felt offended, but she knew how hard it was to watch someone hurt and not have a single idea on what to do. “Should I pull the arrow out? Is that what we do here?”

“No. Without proper equipment to get it out without causing further damage it’s more of a risk to pull it out then to leave it. We just have to try to get back to camp as quickly as we can manage,” Clarke responded. Her breath began to feel labored, wheezes falling from her lips as Bellamy wrapped a gentle hand around her good arm and lead her through the trees.

“You’re going to be fine, Clarke,” Bellamy assured. His voice held a sort of steeliness to it that made it hard to argue, and Clarke found herself nodding along as it were certainly true.

“You know my name,” she joked.

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Of course I know your name. Partners in crime, right?”

There was a sort of vulnerability to Bellamy’s words, and it nearly brought Clarke to a hault. If Clarke had believed in a God, she would have said Bellamy was a Godsend, something sent as some sort of miracle to bring her back from the darkness. He acknowledged her for just who she was, nothing less and nothing more, and embraced every rough edge and sharp corner with open arms. She knew Bellamy cared about her, but it was strange to see him do it so openly.

Her breathing started to sound more hollow to her own ears, her chest struggling to move up and down as they rushed through the woods. “Bell,” Clarke began, stumbling over her feet and falling into him, “I think that…”

The world shook as Clarke tried to keep her balance, her legs feeling far from stable.

“What’s wrong, Clarke? What’s happening?”

“Poison,” she claimed, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she tried desperately to stay conscious and upright. “I think it’s a poison arrow, make sure not to touch it.”

“We’re not that far, we’ve got to get you back to camp.”

Clarke nodded, taking a solid breath as she tried to push herself forward, but it was clear she was going nowhere as she nearly face-planted straight into the ground. Bellamy’s arms wrapped around her middle to keep her upright, and when he pulled her back to his chest he dipped down and looped his arms behind her back and under her legs. “Do-” The protest died on her lips, Clarke’s head lolling backwards as she fell unconscious.

* * *

 When Clarke woke up, the world was dark and there was a familiar weight in her right hand. Her eyes felt unbelievably heavy as she tried to lift them, like they were glued shut, and her whole body felt as if it was moving in slow motion. As she tried to open her mouth to say something, a small groan fell from her lips.

“Abby! She’s awake!” Bellamy called.

Clarke’s eyes finally fully opened, and she could see Bellamy right next to her. His hand was held securely in her own, his eyes trained on her face, and he smiled wide as she looked back at him. “You sure know how to scare a guy, princess.”

“We’ve really got to stop this ‘almost dying’ thing. It’s getting kind of old,” she teased. Bellamy moved forward, bringing a hand up to her cheek, and Clarke found it impossible not to smile as she noticed the grin stretched wide across his face.

“Clarke, how are you feeling?” Abby asked.

Bellamy pulled away, leaving a foot between them as Abby looked her over. If she could have it her way, Clarke would have pulled him right back, would have never let them stop touching. It was becoming exhausting to pretend that there was nothing between her and Bellamy, to pretend that she didn’t feel more comfortable next to him or liked the way his touch felt. There were times when Bellamy would look at her and she could swear she was going to light right up and burst into flames.

“Pretty good,” she answered, her voice cracking halfway through.

“He saved your life,” Abby told her, nodding her head toward Bellamy. “You stopped breathing right around the camp’s fences and he kept your heart beating.”

“Oh no,” she groaned, “don’t tell him that.”

“Don’t worry, it was just payback for you doing the same for me.”

Abby chuckled underneath her breath, shaking her head as she left a pill on the bedside table and exited the room.

“Good, wouldn’t want anyone to start thinking you’ve gone soft, Blake.”

Bellamy paused, a curious look on his face as he took her in. There was something inquisitive about the way his eyes dragged over her, like he was trying to answer some long-winded question within the planes of her face, and it left Clarke feeling warm all over.

“What are we waiting for?” Bellamy questioned.

Clarke tried to keep her face neutral at the question that was truly more of an admission than anything else. He knew it too, that the two of them were dancing around this invisible line because it was easier than taking the plunge. They’d never gotten so close to the edge, though, and it left Clarke jittering and nervous. She knew she could divert the question easily if she wanted to, but the question was so  _legitimate_.

What in the world  _were_  they waiting for?

“I don’t want you to die,” she admitted, the words surprising even herself as they popped out. “I love you and I don’t want you to die.”

“I can’t promise that.” Bellamy stepped forward, and there was something so gentle about the way he approached her, in the way his hand came to her cheek and his breath whispered over her skin. “But I will always do everything I can to come home to you. You just have to promise me the same.”

“I always have,” Clarke whispered through a delicate smile, “and I always will.”

Clarke reached her good hand up, grabbing onto his neck and sliding her fingers into the mess that was his hair. She tugged lightly, beckoning him forward, and his eyes stayed firmly transfixed on her so that she felt like there was not another thing in the entire world besides the two of them, Bellamy and Clarke.

His breath fluttered over her lips, only a miniscule distance holding them apart, and he ghosted his lips over hers. Clarke humphed in disapproval, bridging those last few inches of distance, and Bellamy chuckled at her eagerness. She had waited what had felt like forever for this moment, this connection -- she figured she was allowed to be a little impatient.

Bellamy’s hands roamed over her waist and stomach, pathing a trail of heat and want in its wake. Their lips moved together slowly at first, and then Bellamy was bringing himself closer and Clarke was letting his tongue enter her mouth and everything felt electrified. His mouth tasted just the way she thought he would, entirely indescribable but blatantly Bellamy. He nibbled on her bottom lip and a small moan escape Clarke’s mouth, pulling from the back of her throat.

“Injured,” Clarke breathed out quickly after a heavy wince. “I’m still injured.”

“You always ruin my fun,” he joked, but his eyes instantly moved to her hand. Bellamy picked it up delicately, kissing it lightly over the wrapping. “We’ll keep it tame for now.”

“I don’t know if I can wait.”

Bellamy smiled wickedly, almost like Clarke remembered from when they first fell to the ground, but now she knew him. Clarke could see the glimmer of life in his eyes and the gracefulness in his shoulders and the slight curve of his lip that was nothing but caring. She loved him, every single part of him, and she had a sneaking suspicion that this was it. The way she felt about Bellamy, deep and all-encompassing, was  _only_  for Bellamy. No one else could ever fill his spot.

“We’ve waited this long, I think you can manage a little longer.” Bellamy kissed her on the cheek and then the other cheek, pulling back for just a brief second before kissing her softly on the forehead. “I love you, you know?”

Clarke nodded. “I know. And you know-”

“Trust me, I  _know_.” And by the way Bellamy was looking down at her, like she was something beautiful and delicate and priceless, she figured he kinda did.

 


End file.
